Blind Faith
by enigste1
Summary: What do you do when you have a crime, but no clues and no reason? Special thanks to Queen of Cliffies, Alice I and Timespirt for title suggestions.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Numb3rs. I do not profit from this work.

Chapter 1

"Charlie, are you in here?" Don Eppes called as he entered the garage. His brother was writing furiously on a chalkboard at the far end of the room. "There you are," he sighed as he came over. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"What?" Charlie glanced up before resuming his work. "Oh… no. Sorry, Don. I'm right in the middle of a significant train of thought."

Don raised his eyebrows. It seemed – to him – as though Charlie was always in the middle of a 'significant train of thought'. "Geez, man," he replied, "I've only called you three times. Dad wanted me to come get you."

Charlie stood and stretched. "What for?" he asked.

Smiling, Don answered, "Supper. You know, food?"

"Okay," Charlie bent down to make another notation. "I'll be right there."

Don reached down and took the chalk from Charlie's fingers. "Oh no you don't. I've heard that before. You're going to come and eat _now_."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Charlie gave in. Following his brother to the door, he said, "If I lose my line of thinking because of you, and some fantastic new mathematical theory is lost to mankind, you're going to feel really guilty."

"I'll take my chances."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"So, Don," Alan said, spooning salad onto his plate. "How's work?"

Don shrugged and popped a french fry in his mouth. "Same old same old," he replied. "How's the consulting business?"

"It's going really well. Stan and I have a couple of things we're working on, and our first urban renewal project client is coming in for a meeting on Monday." He passed the salad bowl to Charlie.

Both Eppes brothers spoke at once, offering their congratulations. Don said, "We should go out to dinner Monday night. You know, to celebrate."

"Great idea," Charlie said. Looking at his father, he added, "We could go to that new Korean place… the one with the braziers right at the tables." He looked to Don for support.

"Sounds good," Don agreed. "What do you think, Dad?"

The older man grinned. "It sounds like a great idea to me."

"It's settled, then," Charlie said. "Monday night." He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. "And you better not be working."

"Me?" Don asked innocently. "You never know, I might get caught up in an important idea and forget about it." He grinned devilishly.

"You…!" Charlie began.

"Now, now," Alan cut in. "No fighting. You're both too old for that nonsense."

Don cast another rakish grin at Charlie, who stuck his tongue out. Alan looked from one to the other and then lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Why me?" he asked.

All three burst out laughing. Don's cell phone rang as he was reaching for the platter. Unclipping it from his belt, he stood and walked into the living room.

"Eppes."

"Don," Megan said. One word was all it took to tell him she was upset.

"What happened?" Don asked. In the next room, Alan and Charlie fell silent.

"It's not… you need to come. Now."

Don glanced at his father and brother. They had both gone still and were watching him. "Where?" he asked.

"UCLA Medical Center," she answered. "Don…"

"Hang in there," he interrupted. "I'm on my way." Snapping the phone shut, he mentally composed himself before addressing his family. "I have to go," he said, sliding the phone back onto its clip and grabbing his jacket off of the couch.

"What's up?" Alan asked. Charlie added, "Anything I can help with?"

Don shook his head. "Work," he evaded. "I'll talk to you two later, okay? Don't forget," he pointed at them both. "Dinner. Monday. Seven o'clock."

His father and brother both grinned, easily accepting Don's confident response. "We'll be there," said Alan. "Just make sure you are."

Charlie added, "Write it down somewhere."

Don looked at him. "I'll write it on your forehead," he teased. Lifting his hand in a vague wave, he went out the door. As the door closed behind him, Charlie turned to his father and said, "So, tell me about your urban renewal project."

About to take a bite of steak, Alan lowered his fork as he started on his favorite subject. "Well…" He was interrupted by the sound of a motor revving. It was quickly replaced by one of squealing tires. He looked at his youngest son, who had also paused to listen. After the noise had faded, Charlie returned the gaze.

"Must have been more than just work," Alan ventured.

Charlie replied, "Must have."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Megan met him at the front doors. Don asked, "What's going on?"

"It's Granger… he's been hurt," she answered. Don realized she was shaking, although her voice was steady.

"How?"

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Megan said, "We were walking to our cars. Colby was almost at his. I think he hit the button on his remote to disarm the alarm…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

Don grabbed her by the shoulders. "What _happened_, Megan?"

"It blew up," she replied faintly. "His car just… blew up."

"Is he alright?" he asked. "Are _you_ hurt?"

Megan shook her head. "My car was in the other direction. I was further away." She took a deep breath. "I don't know how bad he is. David's working the scene."

Don nodded. "Okay," he said, moving toward the admitting desk. "Let's see what we can find out." He pulled his wallet out and flashed his ID at the nurse on duty. "Special Agent Don Eppes, FBI," he identified himself. "I'd like to know the status of one of my agents who just came in."

"Name?"

"Special Agent Colby Granger." He waited with growing impatience as she consulted a computer screen.

"Agent Granger has been taken up to OR," she replied before looking up. "If you want to wait over there," she indicated a small area with plastic chairs, "I can have the ER resident come speak to you when she's free."

"Fine, thank you," Don said woodenly. Wrapping his arm around Megan's still shaking shoulders, he guided her to the waiting area and made her sit. "I'll get you something hot to drink," he said, slipping off his jacket. He wrapped it around her and then headed for the coffee machine. Returning with two paper cups, he handed one to Megan, who accepted it gratefully. Sitting down, he took a moment to study her. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm okay… a bit shaken up, naturally." Megan sipped her drink. "Mmm… hot chocolate." She adjusted the jacket around her shoulders and tucked her feet up on the chair. "Not the most comfortable seat I've ever had," she observed.

Don smiled slightly and sipped his own drink. It wasn't bad for vending-machine coffee.

It was almost half an hour before a woman in green surgical scrubs came over and introduced herself as the ER resident.

"How's Colby?" Megan asked immediately. Don glanced at her before identifying himself.

"Don Eppes, and this is Megan Reeves. We're with the FBI. Colby Granger is one of our agents."

The resident nodded. "Agent Granger suffered minor injuries due to the explosion," she began. "Our main concern was his eyes."

"His eyes?" Megan got up from her chair. "What's wrong with them?"

The doctor addressed her directly. "He received trauma to his eyes when his car blew up, resulting in detached retinas." Turning to Don, she added, "While it isn't life threatening, he could lose his vision if not corrected immediately. That's the reason for the emergency surgery."

"When can we see him?" Don asked.

Looking at her watch, the resident answered, "Not tonight, I'm afraid. Surgery usually takes at least a couple of hours, and he'll be out after that. Better to come back in the morning."

Nodding, Don said, "If he does come around before that, could you make sure someone tells him we were here?"

"Of course."

Don watched her walk away, then turned to Megan. "Come on," he said. "I'll drive you home."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to go back to the office and see what David's got," he answered. "I want to know how someone managed to plant an explosive device on a vehicle in an FBI parkade."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Charlie," Alan called. "Larry's here."

"Send him in, please, Dad." Charlie's hand never stopped moving across the board. "I'm a little busy to come out there."

Alan shook his head. He had hoped the arrival of Charlie's friend and fellow faculty member might draw his son away from his work for a few minutes, at least. He mentally berated himself for his foolish notion. Stepping to one side to let Professor Fleinhardt go by, he said, "See if you can get him to stop for a while. He hasn't eaten since last night." The diminutive physicist nodded.

Larry made his way to his colleague's side. Gazing complacently at the equations and formulas that seemed to cover every visible surface, he asked, "So how's the cognitive mapping going?"

Charlie barely looked up. "I'm right in the middle of a complex series of mathematical expressions that may prove at least part of my theory." He paused to scratch one chalk dust covered arm before resuming his calculations. "What can I do for you, Larry?"

Ambling over to one of the boards near the sofa, Larry folded his arms and tapped one forefinger on his chin. "Well," he began, reading the formulas, "I originally came by to ask if you were helping Amita with her paper on Bose-Einstein codensates, but somehow I think I've already found my answer."

Charlie sighed. "Larry," he let his hand drop and stood. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to help Amita – or anyone else, for that matter – on a physics paper." He leaned down to make another notation. "I'm really busy, Larry."

Larry scratched his head thoughtfully. "I think the question I should be asking is 'why do you feel the need to starve yourself?'"

Pausing, Charlie looked at his friend. "What?"

"Well," Larry stepped to one side and examined another board. "Your father tells me you're not eating and you're extremely preoccupied with your work." He turned to face Charlie. "The ultimate result will be starvation, I'm afraid."

Charlie snorted and shook his head. Moving to another board, he resumed writing. "I'm not hungry, and neither one of those things is why you're really here."

Larry regarded the young genius in silence. He knew all too well what was bothering Charlie besides the solution to his theory. Trying to get him to talk about it was proving to be difficult. "I believe my ulterior motive in coming here is rather transparent, so… in the interests of economy, I will come to the point." He put his hands behind his back. "Why are you avoiding Amita?" he asked.

Charlie let his arm drop to his side. Without turning, he replied, "I'm not… I just don't want to talk to her right now."

"For a brilliant mathematician, you have to admit that wasn't a terribly intelligent response." Larry picked up the chalkboard eraser. Examining it minutely, he continued, "I believe 'not wanting to speak to her' is the same as 'avoiding her'."

Charlie looked at Larry over his shoulder. "Not now, Larry."

Larry put both hands up in a gesture of submission. "All right, all right," he said. "I just hate to see an extraordinary relationship between two exceptional people – such as yourselves – simply discarded over something as trivial as… well, whatever you're mad about."

Charlie finally turned. "First of all, Larry," he said in a dangerous tone. "I am not 'discarding' my relationship with Amita. Secondly," he took a step toward a nearby table and tossed the chalk down. "It was nowhere near being 'extraordinary'. And finally," he added, heading for the door. "It's really none of your business!"

"Where are you going?" Larry asked. Charlie paused with one hand on the doorknob.

"To get something to eat," he replied. "I'm hungry." He went out the door.

Larry addressed the eraser. "At least _part_ of the plan worked."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Don had barely entered the parking garage when David called him. Hurrying over to his side, Don took in the grotesque, twisted sculpture that was once Colby's Maserati. "What have you got?" he asked.

"High grade explosive, wired to the alarm," David replied. "I don't think he was supposed to get that close."

"What do you mean?"

David shook his head. "If I wanted to blow someone up, I'd wire the explosives to the ignition. Not the car alarm." He pointed. "If Granger hadn't been talking to Megan, he probably would have done what everyone else does."

Nodding, Don said, "Hit the button as soon as he was within sight of his car."

"Right," David turned and pointed at a group of evidence technicians who were going over every inch of the twisted and charred metal. "There's not much left of it. I don't know if the techs are going to be able to find anything useful." Allowing his arm to drop, he added, "We're going through all the security cameras now, but it doesn't look as though there's anything on them."

"Then go over them again," Don commanded. "I want to know how the hell someone managed to plant a bomb on an agent's car, and fast." He started to walk to the stairwell. "They hit one of us at home, David. Until we find out how and why, we're all potential targets."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Megan stood next to Colby's bed, waiting for some sign of consciousness. Both eyes were bandaged, and there were angry welts and bruises on his face. His forearms had been completely encased in gauze to protect the cuts he received while shielding himself from the blast.

Only a few minutes had passed when the young man stirred.

"Hey," Megan said softly. She knew he would be startled at first, and wasn't disappointed.

"Megan?" he asked.

"Yep, it's me."

Granger reached up to touch his face. Megan stopped him. "Don't touch," she said. "Your eyes are bandaged."

"Why?" The tone of his voice betrayed his fear. To one who didn't know him, he would have sounded angry.

"You hurt your eyes, and they have to be protected so they can heal," she replied.

"I'm blind?"

"Well, for now – just until the bandages come off." She sighed. "The doctors operated on your eyes so you _wouldn't_ be blind."

Colby lowered his arms gently. "Have you found out who did it yet?"

"Not yet. David and Don are working on it now."

"Why aren't _you_ working on it?" he asked.

Megan lowered her voice to a whisper. "Actually, I'm supposed to be at home. I thought I'd come visit you instead."

Colby smiled. "So you actually risked the wrath of Super Agent Eppes to came and see me?"

"I heard that." Don entered the room smiling at Megan, who smiled back. He adjusted his voice to sound stern and added, "Just what is that supposed to mean, Granger?"

The smile quickly slid from his face. "Uh… n – nothing, Don," he stammered. "I was just… uh…"

Don reached down and put a comforting hand on Colby's shoulder. "It's okay, man. I was just joking." He laughed. "Good to see you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Colby replied. "Except that I can't see."

"For now," Megan put in. "I told you – it's only temporary."

Don glanced from Colby to Megan and back. "Right. But it's not your vision _now_ I'm wondering about." He leaned over the rail. "What was it like before?" he asked.

"You mean – did I see anything?" Colby asked.

Don nodded. Remembering suddenly that the younger agent couldn't see him, he said, "Yeah. Think hard, Colby."

Granger lay quietly for several minutes. Megan glanced at Don, the question in her eyes apparent. _Do you think he's asleep?_ Don shook his head and resumed waiting.

After almost five minutes, Colby said, "I do remember… something."

Don lowered his voice. "What, Colby? What do you remember?"

"There was a guy…" he began. Megan leaned closer. "Standing by the stairwell. He was almost behind the pillar…"

"What did he look like, Granger?" Megan asked excitedly. Colby fell silent.

"C'mon, help us out here," Don coaxed. "Was he tall, short…"

The younger agent interrupted. "Average height and build. Dark hair – I'm not sure of the color." He sighed. "Sorry, Don. That's all I can remember."

Don sighed as well. Standing, he said, "That's okay. Don't worry about it. We've got a few things we're looking into." He patted Colby on the shoulder again. "I'll come back later to check on you, okay?"

Colby nodded. "Thanks." Don gestured to Megan to follow him as he headed for the door. Megan said, "I'll be right back, Colby."

Gently closing the door after her, Don hissed, "What are you doing here, Reeves? I thought I told you to go home!"

"I know, Don," Megan replied. "But I couldn't bear the thought of him waking up, not being able to see, and no one he knew around. It'd scare the hell out of him!"

Putting his hands on his hips, Don stared over her head for a moment. Finally he said, "All right, Megan. I see your point. But from now on," his voice rose. "You do what you're told, do you hear me?"

Megan studied him in silence. "What?" he demanded.

"What is it you're not telling me, Don?" she asked.

His jaw snapped shut. Obviously he had no desire to share what he'd learned, but eventually he gave in. "This wasn't supposed to go down the way it did."

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "The bomb?"

Don nodded. "It was wired to the alarm, not the ignition. Granger was supposed to set it off from further away."

Megan digested this. "So whoever did this, whatever their motive, it might not have been revenge?"

"I think it was to get our attention."

"Well," Megan folded her arms. "They sure as hell got _my_ attention."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Mine, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

The door to the garage opened slowly, and Amita cautiously poked her head inside. "Charlie?"

At the far end, Charlie was once again scratching away furiously at a chalkboard already nearly covered in equations. From her spot by the door, Amita could see he was wearing headphones. Venturing further into the room, she called again. "Charlie?" She took a few tentative steps toward the mathematician.

Just then, Charlie turned to consult the papers lying on the table in front of Amita. He caught a glimpse of her and then did a double take. "Amita!" he said, pulling the headphones from his ears. "What… what are you doing here?"

Amita put her hands behind her back, somewhat shy now that she had his full attention. "I came by to see how you were doing," she admitted. "What with the holidays and everything, we don't get much of a chance to talk anymore."

Charlie sidestepped to the end of the table. "No, well," he began clumsily. "I've been really busy and…" His gaze was drawn to the boards around him. Looking at his equations and expressions gave him an excuse not to address her directly. "You can see I've made quite a bit of progress on my theory," he gestured to the symbols written there. "It's actually been consuming quite a bit of my time…" His voice trailed off into silence. When Amita didn't respond, he looked over at her. "I haven't been avoiding you, if that's what you…" he began.

She cut him off angrily. "Yes. That _is_ what I think. That's what _everyone_ thinks. Because that's exactly what you've been doing, Charlie." She took a step forward. "Larry knows it, I know it, your father knows it…" Another step. "For all I know, even your brother knows it." And another. Charlie started backing up. "You've been avoiding everyone lately Charlie. That is true. But mostly you've been avoiding _me_." Amita took another step forward abruptly, causing Charlie to back-pedal right into a precariously perched chalkboard. Suddenly aware of what he'd done, Charlie turned in an attempt to grab the board before it fell. Amita rushed forward to help and inadvertently bumped into him, causing Charlie to lose his grip. The board crashed to the ground, landing on his foot.

"Oh my God, Charlie! I'm so sorry!" Amita said.

Standing on one foot, Charlie rubbed the top of his other foot with one hand. Without looking at her, Charlie said through gritted teeth, "Never mind."

"No, really," she tried again. "Can I help? Do you want me to take a look?" She bent as if to see, but he hobbled out of reach.

"No, I'm… I'm fine. Just…" Charlie gingerly put his foot down. Turning to face her, he continued, "Amita, can you… I just…" He sighed. "I don't feel like talking right now, okay? Can you understand that? Not just you… anyone." Reaching down, he grabbed the edge of the board and stood it against the table. "Just… would you please…?"

Amita nodded. "I'll go. Maybe some other time, huh?"

Charlie's only response was a quick shrug. He shuffled the papers on the table, unwilling to meet her gaze. Amita turned and hurried out of the room.

He watched her go, ducking his head when she turned back at the doorway to wave goodbye. After the silence returned, he limped to the sofa and sat down. He removed his shoe and rubbed his foot absentmindedly.

Alan poked his head in. "Is everything alright in here?" he asked.

Charlie looked up. "Yes…" he began, then changed his mind. "No. No, everything's not okay in here."

Alan came fully into the room, sensing Charlie needed someone to listen to him. Leaning against the table, he folded his arms and waited. Charlie remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Ever since Penfield came and gave that lecture, I haven't been able to spend time with Amita," he said. "Not the way we used to."

"You mean," Alan clarified. "Ever since Amita went out with Marshall Penfield, you haven't _wanted_ to spend time with her."

Charlie nodded. "But she didn't go out with him – not like on a date. She just…"

"Hung out with him."

"Yeah." Charlie's voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Why am I angry with her? It's not her fault."

Alan uncrossed his arms and moved to sit next to Charlie. "You're not," he replied.

Charlie shook his head. "No, I guess not," he sighed. "I'm angry with myself." He thought for a moment and then added, "I've been around Amita for a long time. I guess I always thought when she… when we didn't have to worry about the rules anymore…" he trailed off.

"…You two would get together as a couple?" Alan finished.

Nodding, Charlie continued. "But when we tried it, it didn't work. We both agreed it didn't work. We have nothing in common outside of CalSci."

Alan pursed his lips in thought. "I fail to see what any of this has to do with Marshall Penfield."

"I don't know." Charlie ran his hands through his curls in a gesture of frustration. "She got along with Penfield just fine! Maybe…"

"Maybe your jealousy has gotten the better of good judgement?" ventured Alan. "Maybe all your training in logic is being overruled by your irrational reaction to all of this?"

Charlie stood. Throwing his hands in the air, he cried, "But what _is_ 'all this', Dad? There's no 'this' to it! There's nothing there!" He moved to the table and picked up a sheaf of notes. Brandishing it, he said, "The only thing Amita and I have in common is the math. Nothing more. I thought…" He threw the papers down and rested both hands on the tabletop. In a quieter tone, he said, "I hoped…"

Alan regarded his son for several moments before rising from his seat. Two steps brought him to Charlie's side, and he rested a hand on his shoulder in silence.

"What, no advice?" Charlie asked wryly. When his father didn't respond, he looked up. Alan was shaking his head slowly.

"The truth is, my son," he paused and let his hand drop. "There's nothing I can say. This is something you're going to have to deal with on your own." Alan turned away.

"Wait," Charlie began. "What…"

Alan cut him off. "No, Charlie. In this, you're on your own. You're a grown man." He walked back into the house, letting the door swing shut behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

"So what you're telling me," Don said into the phone, confusion written on his face, "Is that there's no way of determining where it came from?" He listened for a moment before replying. "All right. I understand. Thanks." Replacing the receiver, he sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes.

David stood nearby. "That was the lab?" he asked.

"Yeah." Don pulled out his chair and sat down. "The explosive used on Colby's car was – as near as they can figure – nitrourea."

David sighed. "No way to trace it, then."

"Anyone can get a hold of the stuff to make it," Don said, his voice rising. Ticking off his fingers, he said, "Fertilizer, acetone… what… sulphuric acid and distilled water…" He looked at the other agent helplessly. "_Anyone_, David."

Agent Sinclair nodded. "I don't suppose there was enough of it used that we could look for bulk buys?" he asked.

"How are you going to track down the sale of cheap fertilizer in Los Angeles?" Don shook his head. "There better be something on that surveillance tape from the garage."

"There isn't." Megan came to a stop next to Don's desk, folder in hand. "The security cameras from the parking garage get the stairwell door, but the pillar Colby was talking about is out of the shot."

Don had picked up a pen while she was talking. At these words, he threw it down in frustration. "So basically, we have to wait for this guy to do something _else_ before we can move?" Megan nodded. Don stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket.

David asked. "Where are you going?"

"To ask Charlie if _he_ can see a way through this mess." Don took the folder from Megan's hand. "Where's the tape?"

"In the A/V lab," she replied. "Don…"

Don stopped mid-stride and turned, waiting.

"Do you really think your brother can help on this?" she asked.

Shrugging, he answered, "Can't hurt – and _we've_ got nothing to go on."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Don," Alan called from the kitchen. "Is that you?" He pushed through the door, fruit bowl in hand, and almost collided with his eldest son. "Whoa! Watch it, Don!" He moved to the table and set the dish down. Turning, he saw Don poke his head into the kitchen briefly. "I just about dropped… what are you looking for?"

"Where's Charlie?"

"He's upstairs, getting dressed," Alan answered. "What's going on?"

"Getting dressed?" Don asked. "Is he going out?"

Alan tried and failed to hide his disappointment. "You're working?"

Don studied his father. "Yeah, I'm working. Why…?" He slapped his forehead as realization hit him. "It's Monday!"

"Of course it's Monday," Charlie said as he came down the stairs, straightening his tie. He had opted for 'dressy casual' and was wearing a sport jacket with jeans. "What day did you think it was?" Taking in his brother's agitated state, he said, "You forgot about dinner, didn't you?"

Don ran his hands over his face. "Okay, okay. I'm a terrible son… brother… whatever. I'm sorry." Turning to Charlie, he pleaded, "I really need your help."

Charlie stood even straighter. "Not tonight, Don. I'm sorry, but this is important."

"Charlie," Don threw up his hands helplessly. "This is important too!"

"No," Charlie shook his head. "Not this time, Don. Not now. Talk to me about it after dinner."

"Charlie," Alan began. "Maybe you should…"

He interrupted. "No, Dad. I meant it – this is just as important as whatever catastrophe Don's got brewing now."

Don seized the glass bowl with both hands and flung it. It whizzed past Charlie's ear and smashed spectacularly against the newel post. Charlie and Alan looked at Don in shock.

Pointing a trembling finger at his brother, Don said in a threatening voice, "Don't you _ever_ ask to help with an FBI investigation again. You are going on record as refusing consultation with the bureau, and you can just kiss your federal fees goodbye." Turning to Alan, he said, "Dad, I apologise about the dinner – for your sake. I can't go. I don't know when I'll be able to." He pushed past Charlie to the front door.

"Don, I…" Charlie began.

Don rounded on him. "You've already stated your position, Professor Eppes," he snarled. "Without even bothering to find out what you were needed _for_." He waved a hand at him in disgust. "Don't let me keep you." Don yanked the door open.

"Don!" Alan commanded. "That is more than enough! You can't just come in here and order people around! Demanding they drop what they're doing to help you out on one of your cases!" Don paused in the doorway. "And breaking dishes! What the hell's gotten into you?"

Don shook his head, a humorless grin on his face. Softly he replied, "I'm sorry, Dad. I can't explain."

"You damn well better explain!" Alan looked from Don to Charlie and back. Gesturing to the bits of crystal on the floor, he added, "And who's supposed to clean up that mess, me?"

Don looked at the shards, and then at his father. "Sorry – I would," he glanced at his brother. "But to tell you the truth, I don't think I have time." He stepped outside and closed the door.

Alan and Charlie exchanged puzzled looks. Lifting his shoulders slightly, Charlie said, "I have no idea."

Alan glanced at the front door and shook his head. "I'll go get the dustpan." He headed for the kitchen. Charlie turned to follow.

Suddenly a tremendous explosion threw them both to the floor. The windows in the front door and the living room shattered, and the darkness outside was lit up like midday. Fragments of wood and glass rained around the two Eppes men, and they both covered their heads with their arms for protection.

In the ensuing silence, car alarms and barking dogs could be heard. Charlie lifted his head and called, "Dad? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Alan coughed. "Yeah, Charlie, I'm alright." He struggled to his feet and then helped Charlie up as well. "What happened?" he asked.

Charlie brushed off his sleeves. "I don't know." He froze, staring at his father. "Don!" he whispered.

Both men raced for the splintered door hanging crazily on its hinges. Charlie pulled it all the way open, ignoring the slivers he got.

Skidding to a halt on the steps, Charlie stared in horror at the inferno in the driveway that was once his brother's SUV.

"Oh my God!" Alan cried. "Donnie!" He grabbed Charlie's shoulder. "Use your phone! Call nine one one!"

Charlie shook his head. He could hear sirens getting closer. "Someone already did," he replied dazedly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

Megan approached the two Eppes men, who were seated on the steps. Both were clearly in shock, and she could see tears on their faces. She knelt down and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Mr. Eppes," she began, then turned. "Charlie – there was no one in the truck."

Alan was the first to stir. "What?"

"Don wasn't…" Charlie said. "He wasn't in it when…?"

She shook her head and allowed herself a small smile. "No. There wasn't anyone in the vehicle when it blew up." She glanced over her shoulder. Fire crews and bomb squad people were going over the smouldering wreckage carefully. Turning back, she asked, "Do either of you know what happened?"

"Don came over," Alan said, clearing his throat. "He wanted Charlie's help with something."

"I didn't even ask…" Charlie whispered. Megan rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. Alan continued, "He was supposed to come out with us for dinner." Lifting his gaze, he asked Megan, "What was going on, Agent Reeves? I've _never_ seen Don that upset."

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He threw…" Charlie put in. "He picked up a dish from the table and threw it. It smashed into…" He shook his head. "I can't even guess how many pieces. And he said…" he paused, swallowing hard.

Alan finished for him. "…That he was going to put Charlie on record as refusing to consult with the bureau."

Megan sighed. "We've been under a lot of strain the past couple of days," she said. "I guess it was getting to him more than he was letting on."

"What…" Charlie's voice broke. "What happened to him, Megan? He never gets that…"

"Emotional?" she asked. Charlie nodded. "I think it's okay for me to say this to both of you, considering…" she glanced over her shoulder again. David was consulting with a member of the squad. Looking back, she said, "Two days ago, someone planted a bomb in Colby's car."

"Oh my God!" Alan said. Charlie added, "Who… Is he alright?"

Megan nodded. "He's in the hospital – he wasn't in the car, but he was close enough to be injured. Don made me go home, because I was there at the time." She stood, and Alan and Charlie followed suit. "He and David have been working the case around the clock ever since. I don't think David's had more than a couple of hours sleep, and I'm positive Don hasn't had any." She turned as Agent Sinclair approached. "What have you got, David?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Same MO."

"Damn!" Megan put her hands on her hips and stared at the ground.

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked David.

David looked from the two men to Megan, who nodded once. "The explosive used in Agent Granger's car is the same as the explosive used here." He gestured behind him to what was left of Don's vehicle. "It's nitrourea – something that is relatively easy for anyone to make…"

"…And simple to get the components for," Charlie interrupted.

Alan asked, "Do you have any suspects? Any clues to go on?"

"We have nothing," Megan put in. Looking at Charlie, she said, "Don was going to bring you a video tape to look at. We couldn't find anything, but he thought you might."

Charlie shook his head sadly. "He didn't give me a tape." Turning to Alan, he asked, "Did he give it to you?"

"No. I came out of the kitchen with that bowl in my hand, and just about ran over him," his father answered. "He didn't mention any video tape."

David said, "He probably left it in the truck."

"Then it's destroyed," Charlie said. His last hope of making up to his brother was gone.

"Not necessarily."

All three looked at Megan expectantly. She continued, "Did either one of you see Don come into the house?" When they didn't reply, she said, "He could've brought it in and stuck it in the VCR."

Charlie turned and headed back into the house. The others waited on the steps for him to return. It was only a moment before he came back out, waving a black cartridge. "It's here," he said. "Don left it on the coffee table."

David said, "Our people couldn't find anything useable on it, Charlie."

"What's it a tape of?" Alan asked.

"The security camera in the parking garage," Megan answered. "It's the view of the stairwell entrance where Colby said he saw someone. There's also footage on there from the other cameras."

"Don also had a folder – was that inside as well?" David asked.

Charlie replied, "I didn't see one. What was in it?"

"Not much," Megan folded her arms. "The chemical makeup of the bomb, Colby's account of what happened."

David added, "We don't have much to go on."

"It sounds as though you don't have _anything_ to go on," Alan put in. He had been silently staring at Don's vehicle. Now he said, "And there's one thing I haven't heard anyone mention yet." Turning, he looked at first David, then Megan. "Where is my son?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Don rolled onto his back and slowly opened his eyes. There was nothing to see but pitch black. It wasn't even dark – it was the complete absence of light. He lifted his right hand and touched his face. He could feel it, but he couldn't see it. Belatedly, he realized that his hands weren't tied, and wondered at the significance.

He reached out around him. To his left, he felt bricks, as well as above his head. To his right – nothing but empty space. Putting his hands down by his sides, he identified what he was laying on as some sort of cot. He swung his legs over the edge and stood up – and promptly cracked his head on an extremely low ceiling. If he had stretched just a bit more when he was exploring, he would have found it.

He rolled off the cot and crouched on the floor, feeling around. The floor seemed to be made of brick as well, which was puzzling. Crouched on all fours, Don listened carefully, but the only thing he could hear was his own breathing. He slowly stood, taking care to put his hand on the ceiling first to gauge the distance. He discovered he could almost straighten his five-foot-ten frame in the cramped space. Placing one hand on the wall, he stretched both arms out in an attempt to reach the opposite wall. When he didn't, Don took small, shuffling steps away from the wall he knew about, until his left hand encountered the one he didn't. _Roughly eight feet wide, maybe a bit more,_ he thought to himself. He performed the same experiment starting at the wall behind the cot, and discovered that the area was pretty much square. Returning to the cot, he sat and tried to figure out his next move.

He was a little fuzzy on the details. All he could remember was coming out of the house, madder than hell about Charlie's refusal to help. _Well, he didn't really refuse,_ he admonished. _He just said it would have to wait until after supper._ Don wondered if Charlie would have found anything the FBI hadn't anyway. On the one hand, he regretted being so rash. Loss of control was something that irritated him, and he probably wouldn't be in this mess right now if he had gone for dinner.

On the other hand, they had nothing to go on. He didn't remember how he'd been abducted, but he hoped the person who did it had been sloppy in some respect. Any clues his team could pick up at Charlie's house would be a vast improvement.

Don lay back on the cot and stared at… nothing. He wondered how long it would be before someone came.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"I've run the tape through a digitizer, and then through a number of different computer programs," Charlie began. "None of those programs were able to extrapolate any additional information." He sighed and sat down next to David. "There is nothing there, just as we figured."

They were in a conference room at the FBI office. Gathered around the table were David and Charlie, Megan, Assistant Director Merrick, and a newly released Colby Granger. Although rest had been recommended, upon hearing of Don's plight, Colby had insisted on helping in the investigation. No one had the heart to refuse.

Larry had been standing by one of the white boards while Charlie spoke. After the younger Eppes took his seat, he stepped forward.

"I realize this is probably an exercise in redundancy," he ventured, tapping one forefinger against his lower lip. "But you really have examined _all_ avenues for potential leads on this case?"

David said, "Yeah, Larry. Unless you can come up with something we haven't."

"Oh, I don't believe so," the physicist replied. "The FBI is renowned for their thorough investigative techniques. I was just thinking – or attempting to think – 'outside the box', as Charles would say."

Megan spoke up. "I think whoever this guy is, he's extremely clever and meticulous." She looked around at everyone. "We aren't going to find anything he doesn't want us to."

Merrick spoke for the first time. "We checked Eppes' cell phone GPS, right? And the lab didn't get anything new from the remains of his vehicle?"

Colby answered, "We're monitoring Don's phone, but it's not on right now. We're on standby for that – as soon as it's powered up, we'll know about it."

"Bomb squad says the same explosive used on Colby's car was used on Don's in the same quantities," David added. "The lab reports nothing unusual on the vehicle."

"Damn it!" Megan cried, slamming her hand on the tabletop. "Isn't there _anything_ we can do?" She looked around the table for a response. Finding none, she turned to Larry. "Professor Fleinhardt? Do _you_ have any ideas?"

Larry shook his head. "I'm afraid all we can do is wait for the next move."

"Yeah," Charlie said, his voice just above a murmur. "But will the next move get Don killed?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Agent Eppes!"

The voice was everywhere. And very, _very_ loud.

Don lifted his head slightly and looked. The darkness hadn't abated. He put his head back down and waited.

"How are you feeling? Feel free to respond, Agent Eppes. I can hear you, and I can see you."

"Why am I here?" Don asked quietly. He wanted to gauge his captor's microphone sensitivity. That, and he was hoping if _he_ was quiet, maybe whoever this was would turn down the volume a bit.

"You are here, Agent Eppes, because I brought you here." There was a short bark of mirthless laughter. "I would have thought even an FBI agent could have figured _that_ out." The volume hadn't lowered at all. "But to answer the question you intended to ask: 'Why did you bring me here?' – the solution to that is rather simple."

"Really," Don said angrily. "Fill me in, because I'm dying to know!"

Laughter once again filled the chamber. "Why, Agent Eppes! How appropriate of you to say that!" A heavy silence descended.

Don waited, anxiety mounting, but there was nothing further. He ground his teeth in frustration, but was careful not to make any exaggerated movements – such as striking out at the wall – in case he was being watched.

He imagined several hours had passed since he awoke. Initially, he thought he could use the light on his watch to help him see, but that had been taken along with his cell phone. A quick check told him he still had his wallet, but the penlight he carried in his pocket was also gone. Whoever this guy was, he didn't want Don to be able to see anything. Don had spent a considerable amount of time after this realization trying to determine the guy's motives. Whereas it had helped to occupy his mind, he was still no closer to a viable solution.

_The reason is simple, he said._ Don replayed the conversation in his head. _I'm dying to know – how appropriate. What the hell? The reason is simple._ Finally the frustration won.

"Hey you!"

"Yes?" the voice drawled.

"Are you going to just sit there? Or are you going to get this over with?" Don hoped the guy would give him some kind of verbal clue.

"Patience is a virtue, Agent Eppes," the man replied. "Aren't FBI agents virtuous?"

"My name is Don," he growled. "Don Eppes."

"I'm aware of that. I read your identification." A pause, then, "Special Agent Donald Eppes, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Los Angeles. Are you important to them, do you think?"

"If you're asking…" Don began, but the voice cut him off. "I mean precisely what I say, Agent Eppes. Are you important to them?"

Don thought a moment before replying. "No more or less than any other agent."

"Very good answer, Agent Eppes." Don wondered at the man's repetition of his title. "Do you think you are important to your family?"

Recalling his argument with his father and brother, Don answered, "I hope so."

"That wasn't very nice of you," he said. "Throwing that dish. And then you left it for someone else to clean up – how inconsiderate."

"How do you…?" Don began. "You were _watching_ me?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Don asked.

"I make it a point to study my subjects thoroughly," the voice answered.

Don thought about this for several minutes. Suddenly he asked, "Were you studying Agent Granger, too?"

"No. Agent Granger was a means to an end."

_A means to an end?_ Don thought. _Then…_

"You wanted to get _me_?" Silence greeted his query. "You wanted me, or just whoever showed up?" Still no response. "No, if that was the case, then you would have grabbed Megan or David."

"You're getting warmer…" the voice sing-songed.

"You wanted…" Don thought hard. "You were looking for the person who showed up that was apparently in charge."

"Very _good_, Agent Eppes! A gold star!"

"What, you think this is kindergarten or something?" Don asked angrily.

"Absolutely not," he answered. "This, Agent Eppes, is scientific research."

Don sat up on the cot. "I'm a damn guinea pig?"

"I wouldn't put it so crudely as that." The voice had taken on a prim tone. "I would prefer the term 'test subject'."

_Oh my God,_ thought Don. _I'm in the custody of some sick and twisted psychopath who wants to use me as a laboratory experiment!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

"Agent Eppes!" the voice boomed.

Don's ears rang and his head pounded. The air seemed stale. He opened his eyes, but it was still dark. Closing them, he murmured, "What do you want now?"

"Do you find this volume level too high?"

"Would it matter if I did?" Don asked.

The man answered, "Of course! I would log it as an observation, Agent Eppes."

Don rolled over so he was facing the wall. "My name is Don," he said tiredly. He had been trying to get this guy to use his proper name for hours. Or at least say why he wouldn't use it. Every attempt had been pointedly ignored.

"I thought I would inform you," the voice continued. "For calls of nature, there is a bucket under the cot."

"Great." Don half-rolled over. "Don't suppose you've got an aspirin?"

There was a second or so of silence. "Are you in pain, Agent Eppes?"

Feeling reckless, Don suddenly decided not to answer.

"Agent Eppes," the man's tone was threatening. "I suggest you respond when I ask you a question." Don remained silent. After a moment, the voice spoke again. "As you have already figured out, Agent Eppes, you are in an eight by eight-foot cell. The walls are five and a half feet high. This means you have three hundred and fifty-two cubic feet of breathable air." There was a pause. "The average human being, at rest, consumes three hundred and eighty-eight cubic feet of air in a twenty-four hour period – to put it simply." He had Don's full attention now. "You have been here for roughly eight point two hours."

_That long?_ Don thought despairingly. _They don't have anything to go on. They're not going to find me._

"That works out to," he continued. "Approximately one hundred and twenty point three cubic feet of air you have already consumed. Leaving you with two hundred and thirty-one point seven cubic feet of air, or roughly fifteen point eight hours."

_This guy's been taking lessons from Charlie._ Don sucked in his breath. _Charlie!_

"Now, Agent Eppes," the voice adopted an admonishing tone. "If you behave yourself, I can give you more air, thereby increasing your life expectancy. If you choose not to co-operate, however, I won't be able to do that for you. And you will die in a little over half a day."

Don began chuckling softly.

"What do you find so amusing, Agent Eppes?"

"You," Don replied. "You sound like this guy I work with. He's always spouting mathematical equations and probabilities and theories and garbage."

"Mathematics is not 'garbage', Agent Eppes," he responded. "It is the most precise form of science."

"And you're a scientist," Don sneered. "Bully for you." He waited, but there was no answer. "The guy I know could work circles around your feeble attempts at math."

This time the pause was longer. "You really think so? I doubt that, Agent Eppes."

"Oh yeah," Don said. "Definitely."

The man was obviously irritated now. "And who exactly is this mathematical genius you believe will 'work circles' around me?"

It was Don's turn to pause. On the one hand, he didn't want to involve Charlie in this depraved experiment. But he knew, deep down, if anyone could find a way out for him it would be Charlie.

"My brother."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Megan and David were standing next to Colby's desk, watching the computer monitor. The younger agent was reviewing the surveillance tapes from the parkade, shaking his head.

"I don't understand," he said. "I know I saw the guy. He was standing right _there_." He jabbed his finger at the screen. "Why isn't he showing up on the tape?"

"No idea," David replied. "Maybe the camera's at the wrong angle or something." He clapped his hand on Colby's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it, man. It's not your fault."

Colby turned away from the desk and asked Megan, "Am I losing my mind or something?"

"No." All three agents turned. Charlie walked up to them and gestured at the computer. "May I?" he asked. Colby stood and offered the chair.

Sitting down, Charlie began typing while he explained. "This was an illusion, that's all. A very rudimentary illusion."

"On the tape?" Megan asked.

David added, "Like that stalker case – making the camera lens open too wide or too narrow?"

"Nope," Charlie shook his head. "Whoever it was didn't do anything to the camera. Besides, the cameras used for the security systems in this building can't be tampered with like that." He hit one final key and leaned back. "The illusion was performed on Special Agent Granger himself."

All three leaned in to get a closer look at the monitor. Charlie had enlarged the shot of the stairwell doors numerous times.

"Charlie," Colby said. "What are we looking at?"

"The top," Charlie replied, punching more keys. "Of this." The screen changed. Now it displayed another camera angle – a long shot of the stairwell doors. Beside the pillar they were interested in was a square of darkness.

"What the hell is that?" Megan asked.

Colby leaned in. "Charlie, is that… a _mirror?_"

"Yep," Charlie replied. "It is a mirror." He resumed typing. "Which means the perpetrator was standing…" The picture changed to a schematic of the parking garage. "Right… here." A green circle appeared.

David said quickly. "We need the footage from the cameras in that area." He turned and headed for the A/V lab.

Colby stared at Megan. "How the hell could I have seen a whole man standing there, when it was just a little mirror?"

"Think hard, Colby," Megan replied. "Do you remember seeing a whole man?"

Brow furrowed in thought, Granger shook his head. "I don't know now – I thought I did."

"You might have seen a reflection of a whole man, or only part of him," Charlie put in. "The shock of what happened may have distorted your memory a little. Your mind would have straightened it out as best as it could, leaving you to believe you saw a fully-grown person behind that pillar."

Megan said, "It's possible, I suppose. I have heard of it before."

Colby shook his head again. "Time lost. We might've found out about this sooner…"

"We know it now," Megan interrupted. "That's the important thing."

David came back in a hurry. "The A/V lab picked up an image on one of the cameras. They're processing it now." He gestured to the computer. "They'll send it up."

Charlie nodded. Turning back to the monitor, he opened a window on the screen. It contained a fuzzy image of a man in dark clothing standing next to a pale van. "The shot isn't wide enough to pick up the plate on the vehicle," Charlie said. Looking at Colby, he asked, "Is this what you saw?"

Colby nodded. A voice called out, "Powering up!"

"What?" Charlie asked. The three FBI agents hurried over to another desk where a technician was staring at her screen. Charlie was right behind them.

"Where?" David demanded.

Pointing, the tech said, "3500 Wilshire – it's an internet café."

"Is that Don's cell?" Charlie asked. Megan nodded.

"Fifteen minutes," David said. "Fifteen minutes from here. Let's go, Colby!" Together they ran out the door.

"Transmitting," the tech added.

Megan leaned in close. "What's the number?"

"It's coming through now."

Charlie's cell phone rang.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

Don lay on his back on the cot, wondering what he'd done now. _It's not bad enough that I got myself in this mess_, he thought. _Now I have to get Charlie involved, too._

It had been quite some time since his captor spoke to him. He wondered about that, too. He had tried to get more information out of him, but the voice had remained conspicuously silent. Like he wasn't there.

On that thought, Don rolled off the cot and began feeling his way down the wall. He was very thorough, exploring each brick from ceiling to floor and back up. It took a long time to do the entire thing. He even attempted to move the cot, but soon found it wasn't so much a bed as a shelf, bolted to the walls that surrounded it.

By the time he got to the last brick he was exhausted. _One down, three to go – not counting the floor and ceiling._ He rested for a moment, noting the air had become poorer since he began. _Unless I'm imagining it,_ he thought. Don finally gathered his strength and started exploring the next wall.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hello?" Charlie said.

The response wasn't what he was expecting. Instead of a voice, all he heard was a data stream, as though from a fax machine. He quickly pulled the cell phone away from his ear. Addressing the technician, he asked, "This is being recorded, right?" The tech nodded and pointed to a monitor adjacent to her workstation.

"What is it, Charlie?" Megan asked. He offered the phone, which she took. After listening for only a few seconds, she asked, "Is this some kind of joke?"

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know, but somehow I doubt it." He watched the screen as the information scrolled by, looking for all the world like something off of a science fiction movie.

"Do you know what it means?" Megan asked.

"Not yet," he replied as the line went dead. "But you can bet I'm going to find out."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Colby waited with growing impatience for David to return from the café. Just when he decided he was going to go inside himself and find out what was going on, Agent Sinclair emerged and headed for the car. Colby barely gave him time to open the door and climb in before he asked, "Well? What did you find out?"

David shook his head. "Not much. The guy was there, all right. The guy behind the counter saw him. Same description you gave, though."

"Surveillance?" Colby asked.

"Not functioning," David answered. "And before you ask, Granger – no, he didn't recall ever seeing him before. And no, he wasn't wearing or doing anything remarkable."

Colby hung his head, suitably chagrined. "Sorry, David," he apologized. "I just feel somehow responsible…"

David cut him off. "You aren't, Colby. None of this is your fault. So just stop thinking about that, and start thinking about what we're going to do to this guy when we finally catch him."

"You're sure we're going to?" Colby asked.

"Positive." David clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get back to the office."

"Don't we want the computer the guy used?"

David shook his head. "The one thing the guy behind the counter did remember about him was: he never touched the computer. He hooked a cable up to it, which he then plugged into a cell phone."

"He never touched it?" Colby's scepticism was plain. "Maybe the guy just didn't see him do it."

"Granted, he might have done something to it that the clerk didn't see," David agreed. "But how many people do you know wear leather gloves in Los Angeles at this time of year?"

Colby shook his head and turned the key.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"I'm sorry, Professor," the technician said. "The programs we have can't pick up a pattern – it's just… numbers."

Charlie looked at the woman with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. "There is no reason for it to be 'just numbers' – there must be a pattern your programs haven't picked up on."

"The guy was toying with us before, Charlie," Megan said from behind him. "Why not now?"

Charlie spoke over his shoulder. "He wasn't toying with you at all, Agent Reeves."

"What?"

Standing, he explained, "You told me the first explosion wasn't intended to harm anyone."

Megan nodded. "That's right. It was wired to the car alarm."

"So it was intended to draw attention," Charlie elaborated. "You also told me the bomb in Don's SUV was made with the same type of explosive."

"_Exactly_ the same," Megan replied. "It _had_ to be the same person."

"Okay, so answer me this," Charlie said. "Why bother blowing up Don's vehicle, when he already had Don?"

"A message?" Megan ventured. "Trying to tell us something?"

"Or," Charlie said. "Testing."

"Huh?"

"This person thinks cryptically," Charlie explained. "That's apparent from the way he's conducted himself so far. Not watching the explosion of Colby's car directly, but through a mirror. Not sending a phone call or a text message – or even a straightforward code – but instead sending a _coded_ code. Very cryptic thinker."

"Right. A coded code that we can't break." Megan folded her arms. "What good is that?"

"I'm thinking you can't break it, but I might be able to." Charlie gestured at the screen beside him. "He's had Don for about nine hours, and the call was placed to my cell phone. I think," he took a step closer to Megan for emphasis, "Don told this guy about me."

"So all of this is for you?" Megan pointed at the monitor. Charlie nodded. "What about the testing part?"

"When Colby's car blew up, who showed up?"

"David." Megan thought for a moment. "I left him there, and went with Colby in the ambulance. I called Don when I got there."

Charlie nodded. "Then what?"

Megan scratched her temple. "Don showed up and we found out what was going on with Granger from the resident." She paused, "Then Don drove me home. He said he was going to see what David came up with."

"So basically, Don moved in and took over," Charlie said. Megan nodded. "And if you were being watched, or followed, that's what it would look like – like Don was in charge."

Megan shrugged. "He _was_ in charge – you just lost me, Charlie."

"Maybe that's what this guy was looking for – the person in charge."

"Then why Don's truck?" Megan was truly puzzled now.

Charlie smiled grimly. "Another test – a kind of… verification."

"He was watching that, too?"

"Probably – who showed up? You and David." Charlie shrugged. "He'd already seen you two taking orders from Don, therefore he must be the top rung on the ladder, right?"

Putting a hand over her mouth, Megan whispered, "Oh my God… He was there? The whole time?"

"No," Charlie replied. "At least – I doubt it. He only needed to stick around long enough to see who showed was in charge."

"It's a good thing Assistant Director Merrick didn't show up, then."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice lowering to a murmur. "Then he would've known he didn't have the right person. No way of telling what he would've done then."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Don managed to examine every brick on three walls before collapsing onto his cot, gasping for breath. He knew it would be smarter to just lie still, but his inner drive to find a way out overrode cautious behavior every time.

"We will soon see how intelligent your brother is, Agent Eppes."

Don groaned. His reprieve was over. He debated not responding and decided against it. "What… what did you do?" he panted.

"I sent him a message," came the reply. "The pertinent question is: What have _you_ been up to?"

"I was… looking around." Don tried to take a deep breath, but found it inadequate. "Sort of… throws off your experiment… huh?"

"You are very foolish, Agent Eppes," the voice chastised. "You have seriously depleted your air supply. What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"Find…" Don stopped. It was too difficult to talk.

"You won't find a way out, Agent Eppes." There was a slight pause, and then, "Would you like more air?"

Don hated himself for being weak. He tried to rationalize by telling himself it was a stalling tactic – that he needed to give Charlie more time. The truth was, he wasn't prepared to die. He nodded.

"On one condition. You mustn't be so foolhardy. There is no point in wasting your breath – literally – in attempting to escape, because you won't be able to. Is that understood?" Don nodded again. "Very well."

The sound of fresh air being forced into the cell was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Alan stood next to the doorway of the coffee room, Larry at his elbow, and watched sadly as his youngest son worked non-stop at a computer. Trying to decipher the data stream the kidnapper had sent was driving Charlie into a frenzy. Alan couldn't remember ever seeing Charlie this obsessed.

"Perhaps Charles should be encouraged to take a break," Larry suggested. Nodding, Alan replied, "He could use one." Then he shrugged. "But I don't have the heart to tell him to stop looking for his brother. I want him to find Don, too."

"That may very well be," the physicist conceded. "But without some kind of respite, Charles is going to miss something obvious that may very well prove to be Don's undoing."

Alan considered this for a moment. "Yeah," he headed for where Charlie was seated. "Charlie, Larry and I were talking."

"Dad, with all due respect," Charlie didn't even glance up. "I need to work on this right now."

"Charles," Larry began. Charlie interrupted. "Larry, please. You of all people should be able to understand what I'm talking about."

"We both do, Charlie." A note of steel crept into Alan's voice. "But if you're ever going to find what you're looking for, you have to take a break."

Charlie sighed. He recognized the tone, and knew that an argument was both pointless and petty. "Alright. But only for fifteen minutes – that's it." He pushed away from the desk and stood. "Fifteen minutes."

Mildly surprised, Larry said, "I'm glad to see you're being reasonable about this, Charles."

"Nothing reasonable about it," Alan commented. "He knows better than to argue with me."

Charlie squared his shoulders. "I am fully capable of taking a break in order to gain fresh perspective on my work. Besides," he added, heading for the elevator. "I could use some fresh air, as well."

Alan said to Larry in a conspiratorial whisper. "And he knows he's never too old to be put over my knee."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The three men deliberately walked through the park at a sedate pace. Charlie was determined to get back to the computer, but knew a moment of calm would go a long way later. Larry and Alan chatted about nothing in particular. The sky was a clear, hypnotic blue and there was only the faintest stirring of a breeze. Taking a deep breath, Charlie closed his eyes and lifted his face toward the sunlight, savoring the sweet smell of freshly mown grass.

Half a second later he was almost thrown to his knees as someone barrelled into him. He was only saved from that fate by his father's strong grip on his arms. Looking up, he saw three teenagers whizzing by on skateboards.

"Thanks," he gasped. Alan shook his head. "Crazy kids. What were they thinking?"

"I'm afraid," Larry said, "They were probably not thinking of much beyond what they were listening to."

"What are you talking about, Larry?" Alan asked.

Larry made a vague gesture at the teens. "They were wearing those… headphone things. They had those itty-bitty little music things."

"Oh yeah," Alan replied. "Those… what do you call them?"

"MP3 players," Charlie supplied.

"Right," Alan said. "I knew it was something like that. It's amazing, isn't it? The things they can do with technology these days."

"Taking sound that could fill an ampitheater and compressing it into tiny fragments of data to be stored by the millions in a device not much bigger than a traditional cigarette lighter." Larry scratched his head thoughtfully. "Yes, technology is a strange and wondrous thing."

Charlie stared at the two men in astonishment. Alan became alarmed. "What is it, Charlie?" he asked. "What's the matter?"

"You two are brilliant!" Charlie began to run back toward the FBI building. "I'll catch you up later!" he called.

Alan and Larry exchanged puzzled looks. "What did we do?" Alan asked.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie burst into the office at a dead run. Heading straight for the tech station, he pulled out the chair and barely gave it time to stop rolling before he sat and began typing.

"What is it Charlie?" Megan asked as she hurried over. "What have you got?" David and Colby joined her at Charlie's side.

He barely acknowledged their presence. Colby said, "I thought the techs couldn't decipher that."

"That's because," Charlie began, still furiously typing, "If I'm correct, it isn't a code."

David asked, "What is it then?"

Charlie hit one final key and sat back. Numbers began scrolling across the screen. "It's not a code exactly," he said. "It's music."

"What?" Megan asked.

Charlie turned in his chair. "Music. Digital music, to be precise."

Colby snickered. "The guy sent you a message in _music?"_

Charlie nodded. "It's actually a coded message, but each letter corresponds to a musical note. Using three octaves," He highlighted a portion of the code on the screen. "Each note, from low C up, corresponds to a letter of the alphabet."

David replied, "But there's eight notes in an octave, Charlie. That makes twenty-four, not twenty-six."

"Well, we can take it for granted the kidnapper started at the beginning of the alphabet, because Y and Z aren't as commonly used as A and B." Charlie resumed typing. "It looks like there are several layers superimposed on one another in this message."

"And that's what made it sound like a fax?" Colby asked. Charlie nodded. The three FBI agents stood in silence and waited for the program Charlie was working on to finish.

Alan and Larry came in. "What's going on?" Alan asked.

David replied, "I think Charlie just figured out the code." They joined the agents in watching the monitor.

Several seconds passed before the numbers on the screen began changing into letters.

"It still doesn't make sense, Charlie," Megan said. "What kind of message is that?"

Charlie shook his head. "It's several layers of message. I need to input an algorithm to sort the letters into their respective layers before it can be read."

David nodded at his colleagues. "We'll let you go to it, okay, Charlie?"

The small group began to disperse, but Charlie didn't even notice.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Agent Eppes, how are you feeling?"

His head was pounding, and he would have cheerfully shot his captor for a drink of water. "Fine."

"Such stoicism," the voice mocked. "Such a fine example of federal law enforcement. Tell me, Agent Eppes – do you enjoy your job?"

Don tried to concentrate his thoughts through the jackhammers going off in his temporal lobe. "What?" He was going to have to get out of here or die trying. He couldn't take much more.

"What's wrong, Agent Eppes? I thought you said you were well."

Slowly, Don pulled himself upright and sat on the edge of the cot. "I need…" Don didn't want to bargain with this animal, but he knew he was dehydrated. "I need water."

The man laughed. "What kind of results would I get if I gave you water, Agent Eppes? The whole point of this experiment is to see how long you last!"

Don stood, staggering slightly. "You sick… twisted…" he stopped, trying to calm his labored breathing.

"Now, now Agent Eppes," there was laughter in his voice. "I wouldn't want to have to adjust my procedures again for you. Just lie down and try not to use up your air." Don remained where he was, swaying slightly. "I won't give you any more, Agent Eppes!" he threatened. "You've thrown off my calculations once already!"

"Good," whispered Don, before he blacked out.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie walked into the conference room, a piece of paper in his hand. The first thing Alan noticed was how pale his younger son was. "Charlie?" he said tentatively. Walking over to him, he asked, "What is it? What did you find?"

Charlie turned his dark gaze to his father's face. In his wide brown eyes, it was clear to Alan that the young genius was terrified. "Charlie! What is it?" he asked again. Charlie handed him the paper.

Alan tried to still the trembling in his fingers as he read the message. Megan had approached the pair, and he wordlessly passed the paper to her. She scanned it quickly. "David, we have to move on this. Now."

David and Colby joined her. Larry asked, "Would someone please let me know what's going on here?" Megan looked at Alan briefly, who nodded. She began to read aloud. " 'Professor Eppes. I have Agent Eppes. He is in an airtight room. He has fifteen hours of air.'" She paused, "When did we get this?"

Charlie said softly, "Almost twelve hours ago."

"Oh my God!" Alan exclaimed. Colby added, "He's got three hours left." If anything, Charlie grew paler. Megan said, "Wait, there's more." She took a steadying breath and continued, " 'Agent Eppes thinks he will be rescued. He believes his brother is smart. If Professor Eppes is smart enough to figure this out, he can find his brother at the old Diamond Mart warehouse.'" David hurried off to get the information on the warehouse. Alan steered Charlie to a nearby chair and made him sit down. Larry put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You did an excellent job, Charles," he said softly. "Even the FBI's computer couldn't figure that out."

"I just hope…" Charlie cleared his throat. "I hope this guy's telling the truth about how much air Don has."

Megan suddenly said, "He's using Don as an _experiment?"_ She had scanned the rest of the page while they waited for David to return.

"What kind of experiment?" Colby asked.

"He wants to see how long a human being can survive while being deprived of food, water, light and fresh air," Charlie answered.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

David poked his head through the doorway. "We've got a location," he said. Megan nodded and motioned for Colby to follow. Charlie stood abruptly. "I'm coming with you."

Colby tried to dissuade him. "Charlie, this is probably best handled by…"

"Don't," the young genius interrupted. "I'm coming with you. Or I'll follow you – either way, I'm going."

Colby looked at the other agents. David nodded. "All right, Charlie. You can ride with me."

He turned to say something to his father, but Alan spoke first. "Phone me when you find him. Larry and I will be waiting."

Charlie followed the others out the door.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"This is the address we got for the Diamond Mart warehouse?" Colby asked. "There's nothing here!" The four of them stood next to David's SUV. They were in an industrial area, but the address had led them to a virtually empty lot. There was no warehouse to be seen, just churned up earth and a few small outbuildings, some of which were so dilapidated not much remained except for piles of rubble.

David asked, "What do you think, Charlie?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "It doesn't necessarily have to be a warehouse."

"Right," Megan added. "If Don only had fifteen hours of air, the place he's being kept doesn't have to be that big."

Nodding, Charlie added, "It would only have to be the size of a small cell. Remember – the message said he was in a 'room'."

"So any one of these sheds could be it?" Colby asked.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. When Colby made to move forward, Charlie grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

David sighed in exasperation. "_What_, Charlie?" Megan looked at her watch. "Charlie," she said, "If this guy was telling the truth, Don's only got a little over an hour left."

"I know," Charlie replied. "Believe me, no one wants to find Don more than I do. I think whoever is doing this will be here somewhere."

"Watching," Megan supplied.

David said, "He was watching before. He's probably watching now."

"Right. So I think we should split up." He pointed to Megan. "Why don't you and I search for Don?" To David, he said, "Then you and Colby can look for the kidnapper."

"The grey van?" David asked and Colby nodded. The two of them moved off to look. Megan joined Charlie and together they began their search. Walking slowly to give the two men time to find the kidnapper, they sifted through likely-looking piles of rubble and peered into gaps between boards on the sheds. After about ten minutes, Megan burst out, "We have to move faster, Charlie!"

"We can't," came the soft reply. Megan looked over and saw tears in Charlie's eyes. "Oh, Charlie," she whispered. "I'm sorry. This must be really hard on you." The mathematician just nodded and kept searching. She mused, "You know, this would go a lot faster if we called LAPD and got them to help."

"All it would take for this twisted individual to bolt is one sniff of the police," Charlie replied. "We'd never catch him, and he'd probably do it again somewhere else." He stumbled, and quickly regained his footing.

"Be careful, Charlie!" Megan warned. "You hurt yourself out here and you'll probably contract tetanus or something!" She noticed Charlie had become motionless and was staring at something by his feet. "What is it, Charlie?" she asked. He shook his head and held up one finger for her to wait. Cocking his head to one side, he seemed to be listening for something. Curiosity got the better of her, and Megan moved quietly to his side. "What?" she whispered.

"I thought I heard…" Charlie paused. "There," he said. "Do you hear it?" Megan shook her head. Charlie shot her a look of exasperation and knelt down. "Listen," he said. Megan crouched beside him, straining to hear. There was a soft susurration of noise, like a murmur, coming from somewhere by Charlie's knees.

"What is that?" she asked. Charlie began to move bits and pieces of construction material, careful not to disturb a small piece of pipe that seemed to be stuck in the ground. Megan helped, shifting lumber and chunks of mortar out of the way. Finally the pipe was exposed, along with a textured surface which, when Charlie brushed it off, appeared to be make of brick. He leaned forward and put his ear next to the pipe. The murmur sounded vaguely like a man's voice, but Charlie couldn't make out what was being said.

"Megan," he whispered. "I think this is it."

Megan regarded him warily. "This is it?" she asked. "A brick box in the ground with a pipe sticking out of it?" At Charlie's nod, she replied, "All right, Professor. If you say so."

"There has to be some way to get it open," Charlie added. "A door or something."

"Unless the whack-job that made it just sealed it up after," replied Megan. "Remember, he doesn't want to bring him back up. He wants to see how long it takes for Don to die."

Charlie regarded her with a withering glance. "Thanks, Megan," he answered. "I hadn't forgotten."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"David!" Colby called.

Agent Sinclair poked his head around the corner of the warehouse, and Granger pointed. On the far side of the building they had just checked, there was a wooden structure that resembled a garage. Colby looked at his partner for confirmation. At the other man's nod, he drew his gun and made for the building. David also drew his weapon and approached from the other side.

Gaining the side of the garage, Colby stood to one side of the grimy window and peered in. He pulled his head back quickly and looked at David. Nodding once, he lowered his gun and moved to the other man's side. "I can see it," he said quietly.

"The question is," David replied. "If we go in there, will he be able to see _us?_"

"I say we go in low and fast and take our chances," Colby replied. "Don's running out of time."

David nodded. "You go to the front of the van and grab the keys so he can't take off. I'll get the back so he doesn't bolt."

The two men made for the man-door at the side of the garage and eased it open. Staying low, they half-ran, half-crawled along the floor, each taking their prearranged positions. David counted down on his fingers, and when he got to one, they each pulled open their respective doors. Colby reached in and snagged the keys, throwing them to the ground before taking aim on the vehicle's lone occupant. David lined up on the man's head. "FBI! Don't move!" he yelled.

Colby said, "Nah, don't listen to him. Go ahead and move. I'd like to put a hole in your head."

David grinned wryly at the small, bookish man seated in one of the van's captain's chairs. "Maybe we'll pretend he made a run for it, Granger. What do _you_ think?" he asked their captive. The man just stared at him, petrified. David unclipped his cell phone from his belt, his eyes never leaving their prisoner. Flipping it open, he pressed a button and waited. When it was answered, he said, "Megan – we got him."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Okay, Charlie," Megan said, flipping her phone shut. "Let's get this open somehow."

"What about…" Charlie began, but she interrupted. "They got him. How do we open this?"

Charlie began scrabbling in the dirt. "There has to be either a door, or a newer section of brick." Megan joined him, and together they uncovered the entire top of the structure.

"I don't get it – there's no door," Megan cried. "How did he get it open with no door?"

"He didn't need to," Charlie replied, hunting around for something to use as a tool. "He wasn't planning on ever opening it after he got Don in there, remember?"

Megan looked around them. Spying a crowbar nearby, she ran over and grabbed it. Charlie had picked up a piece of pipe and was attempting to pry at the mortar between the bricks. "The mortar usually takes twenty-four to thirty-six hours to set," he said, straining to push down on the pipe. "It may be wet enough yet to get…" he stopped as one of the bricks came loose. "…Them out," he finished.

Megan was also working on a corner. "We have go faster, Charlie," she said. "Maybe we can find a tractor or something…" she grunted as another brick popped free.

Charlie dropped his piece of pipe and ran to the SUV. Jumping in, he started the motor and threw it into gear. Megan stopped what she was doing to watch. He drove right up to where they were working and jumped out again, reaching into his pocket for his jackknife. Pulling the seatbelt out to its greatest extent, he sliced through the webbing at both ends. Megan said in amazement, "I never thought of that." Charlie then threaded the strap through the truck's bumper and lashed it around the pipe. Climbing back into the vehicle, he put it in reverse and stepped on the gas.

After a few agonizing seconds, the pipe began to first bend and then slowly come up out of the ground. Megan took a few cautionary steps back. Finally, the pipe and underlying venting assembly burst out of the ground in a hail of bricks and dirt. Charlie came out of the truck at top speed and raced for the hole that now gaped where the top of the cell used to be.

"I'll go," Megan said, dropping her crowbar. Charlie was already climbing into the hole. "Charlie!" she said. He paused and gave her a beseeching look. "Megan…" he began.

"Never mind," she replied. "I'll call for an ambulance."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie allowed himself to drop, hoping he didn't land on his brother. As luck had it, when he landed on all fours, his right hand came in contact with Don's shoulder. "Don?" he asked.

No response.

He moved closer and felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was very weak. That's when he noticed his brother wasn't breathing.

"Oh no," he whispered. From above, Megan called "Did you find him?"

"He's not breathing," Charlie said softly, then yelled, "He's not breathing, Megan!" Charlie rolled him over onto his back. "C'mon, big brother," he pleaded. "Breathe."

Just then, Megan dropped to the floor beside him. She, too, took Don's pulse and checked his breathing. Tilting his head back, she began artificial respiration. After four breaths, she paused to take Don's pulse again.

Charlie watched with growing anxiety as Megan resumed breathing for his brother. He didn't dare speak, as though talking would jinx the situation. He could hear sirens approaching.

Megan glanced at him. "I told them to look for the truck," she said by way of explanation. "They'll find us, don't worry." She made to give Don another breath when the older Eppes coughed weakly. Charlie let all of his own breath out in a rush.

"I wondered if I was going to have to do this for you too," Megan said. Charlie smiled gratefully and she grinned back. Rolling Don onto his side, she said, "Watch him while I find out what's taking so long." Charlie looked up and noticed for the first time the seatbelt webbing dangling through the hole. Megan grabbed the belt and climbed out, nimble as a cat. Despite himself, Charlie watched her climb, appreciating the view. When she was almost out Megan called down, "Stop that!" He quickly ducked his head, heat rising in his face.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue 

"How're you feeling?" Charlie asked as he set the book he was carrying onto the bedside table.

Don Eppes propped himself up on one elbow and regarded his brother for a long moment before replying. "Much better now, thanks to you."

Charlie shrugged. "It wasn't just me," he said. "It was everyone. David, Colby, Megan… even Dad and Larry helped." He looked up to find his brother shaking his head. "What?"

"You figured out the code, Charlie," he answered. "The techs didn't do it, David, Megan, Dad… they didn't do it – _you_ did." He lay back on the pillow and stuck out his hand, which Charlie took. Gripping it firmly, Don added, "Just like I knew you would."

"I almost didn't, you know," Charlie said softly.

Don pulled on Charlie's hand, enveloping him in a fierce hug. "You _did_, Charlie. That's what's important. I owe you _big_ time."

Charlie hugged him back, just as strongly. "You do, don't you?" he asked. Pulling out of the embrace, he said, "Everyone's outside, waiting to see you."

Don rolled his eyes. "Dad, too?"

"Dad too," Charlie affirmed. "He's been on pins and needles since you came to."

"Really?" Don looked at him, puzzled. "Why didn't he come in?"

Charlie said, "I wanted to see you first. He understood."

Don opened his mouth to ask a question, then decided against it. "You'd better bring them in then," was all he said.

Charlie went to the door and stuck his head out. "Come on in," he said. Standing to one side, he held the door while everyone filed in. Exclamations of "Don!" and "How are you?" filled the room. Alan, Larry, David, Colby and Megan all crowded around Don's bed as he tried to respond to each of them. Charlie slipped out of the room unnoticed.

Moving down the hospital corridor, he paused to watch the news report on one of the patient's televisions in an adjoining room. He couldn't hear the reporter, but watched as the camera showed Jason Parker, the man who had abducted Don, being loaded into an FBI vehicle and carted off to prison. The hearing had been fast – conducted within a day – and the case looked to be closed practically before the trial had begun. Parker was going to spend a lot of time behind bars.

Charlie sighed and resumed walking. He had many things to think about. He was still wondering at the change in his personality over the last few days. It wasn't all due to Don's captivity, he knew. It had started well before that, and culminated with this case. Charlie found a waiting room at the end of the corridor and sat on a couch to think.

He was still there an hour later when Amita found him. She stood in the doorway, watching him silently for almost ten minutes before walking over to him.

"Charlie?" When he didn't respond, she carefully took a seat on the couch beside him, although as far away as possible. She was still unsure of where their relationship stood. She clasped her hands together on her knees and tried again. "Your father asked me to come find you."

Charlie lifted his gaze to her face and away again. "He did?" he asked quietly.

Nodding, Amita continued, "And Don was wondering where you went, too." She paused. "Actually, everyone was getting ready to go."

Charlie leaned back into the cushions and crossed his arms. He stared at the coffee table in front of him without speaking.

Amita asked, "Are you still mad at me?"

"Hm?" Charlie lifted his right hand and set his index finger against his upper lip. "What for?" he said. At Amita's lack of response, he finally looked over to find her staring at him with disbelief. "Oh, the other day. No, no. I'm not mad at you." He uncrossed his arms and turned in his seat to face her. "I've been thinking…" he began.

"No kidding," Amita replied.

He gave her a wry look and continued. "I've been thinking about a lot of things, not the least of which is what happened the other day in the garage." Amita began to speak, but he held up his hand. "Let me finish, please," he asked. At her nod, Charlie said, "All this time, we've been proceeding under the assumption that we would get together when I was no longer your thesis advisor." Amita nodded. "And then, when we were free to, we tried dating. It… well, it didn't work."

"There's an understatement," Amita put in.

"And then you were spending time with Penfield." Again he held up his hand as Amita opened her mouth. "And I thought about that, too. I wondered: Why was it so easy to hang out with him, and not with me?" He spread his hands out, palms up. "Because there wasn't any pressure. I had built up this image of you and me together when you finally finished your thesis, and when it didn't turn out – everything fell apart for me."

"Charlie, I…" Amita began.

"Oh, I don't blame you," Charlie said. "That responsibility lies on me, I know that now. No," he continued. "I was jealous of the easy way you two got along more than anything. And I've been thinking of a way to get that back between us." Charlie stood abruptly and took a few steps away from the couch before turning. Placing his palms together, he said, "I've thought about it from every angle."

Amita sighed. "A relationship isn't an equation, Charlie."

He let his hands drop and said quietly, "That's how I think, Amita. Mathematically. And logically. And I've come to the conclusion… We just don't add up."

"_What?"_

He sat beside her again. "You and me – we don't add up… we don't fit. We did, once. Maybe we will again. At least," he searched her face for understanding. "At least, I _hope_ we will. But not right now. Right now, we don't fit." He tore his gaze from her face and looked down at his hands. He wanted, desperately, to hold her and not let go, but he knew it was for the wrong reason: to hold onto the past.

Amita sighed. "I think I know what you're saying, Charlie. This must be hard for you."

Shrugging, he replied softly, "It's been a hard day."

She rubbed his arm. "So for now, we're friends?" she asked. "And you can ask me for help, I don't mind at all."

"Good," Charlie nodded, glancing at her briefly before staring once again at his hands. There was a few seconds of silence between them before Amita rose. "I'll go tell your dad I found you, shall I?" she asked. Nodding again, Charlie replied, "Please." As she turned to leave, he added, "Could you also tell him I'll take a cab home? I want to stay with Don for a little while."

Amita nodded. "Sure," she replied.

Charlie waited a full fifteen minutes before rising. Going to the door, he scanned the hallway for familiar faces. Finding none, he made his way back to Don's room.

"Hey, Buddy!" Don greeted him enthusiastically. "Where'd you disappear to?"

"I went down the hall," Charlie replied. "I needed to be alone."

A look of concern crossed his brother's face. "Everything all right?" he asked.

Charlie considered for a moment before replying. "Yeah, actually. Everything is good." He looked at Don. "You said you owe me big time, right?"

Don regarded him warily. Slowly he answered, "Yeah, why?"

A devilish grin stole over Charlie's features. "Think you can arrange for Megan to give _me_ mouth-to-mouth?"


End file.
